


When Brightness Dims Flashbacks and Sneak Peaks

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: When Brightness Dims [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: This will be a series of flashbacks from the original When Brightness Dims story, or sneak peaks of the sequel, When Your Heart Wants to Hold On.Posts won’t necessarily go in order, but I’ll indicate in the chapter summary where they belong in the story._____This first one is a sneak peak of Regina’s first night back in Maine after she and Henry return from England.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Series: When Brightness Dims [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587481
Comments: 38
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

A slow grin stretches over Robin's lips as he walks toward the light at the end of the hall, his stomach churning with nerves.

He can't believe that he's nervous—not now, not because of her.

Two years ago his nerves would've made sense to him. Two years ago, as he'd walked down this very hall toward the private bar where she waited for him, they'd been on the cusp of scandal. From the outside looking in, it would've been hard to tell that it was even an affair—at its worst, it'd only been a bit of innocent flirtation between friends and a few soft kisses here and there, nothing that could get either of them into any real trouble. And by the time the affair took a less than innocent turn, it was all but over—over before it'd ever really began.

Still, that night, there'd been danger in what they'd done—a risk he'd walked into with his eyes wide open—after all, her husband was entertaining in the room beneath them and there were at least a hundred pairs of eyes that might see him slip up the stairs. But that night, none of that had mattered, the risk barely mattered to him. He trusted her when she assured him that his presence would go unnoticed—and truly, he'd felt they were safe, hiding in plain sight.

Consequences, be damned.

After all, that night he knew that she wouldn't pay the price for their affair—the next day, she'd be on her way to London.

But now, it was different—now, it was real.

There were no longer parameters around them—neither physical nor emotional—and there were no longer any reasons to keep the other at arm's length. She was free to do as she pleased, no longer trapped in a marriage that made her miserable, and he had finally made peace with the idea of moving on.

And if something went awry, they had more to worry about than Leopold Blanchard's bruised pride.

He takes a breath and rubs his hands down over his pants, grimacing at how strong his cologne suddenly seems. But there's nothing he can do about that now, so he pushes forward, stopping as he steps over the threshold—and when his eyes settle on her, he feels a sense of calm settle over him, a smile stretching over his lips as he leans against the door jamb.

Regina doesn't notice him at first, she's too caught up in whatever it is that she's doing. The bar is set up like an office with papers everywhere and a large black leather-bound ledger in front of her. Her hair is pulled back, wound up in a bun atop her head and she's wearing a thin white belted sweater. Her face is propped up in her hand and her index finger is rubbing at her jaw—she looks perplexed, he decides.

For a moment, he considers just letting her be, but then she looks up at him, and everything in her demeanor changes, softening.

"Hey, I didn't hear you come in."

"I came in the back way," he admits, shrugging as he pushes himself forward. "Habit, I suppose."

"I didn't expect you for another half an hour, at least."

Their eyes meet as he halts. "Is Henry asleep? If not, I can…"

"He's asleep," she interjects, biting down on her lip as her cheeks warm. She's nervous, too, he realizes. "He was out like a light an hour ago."

Robin watches as she slips off the stool, smoothing out her knee-length knit skirt as she does—such contrast to her bare feet, chipping away at the polished veneer she wears a facade.

"If I'm interrupting—"

"No," she's quick to say, cutting in again, and again, flushing at her own impatience. "I'm due for a break." She sighs, looking back at the mess of papers atop the bar. "I'm just… looking at Leo's financials and…" Her voice trails off as she looks back to him, shrugging her shoulders. "It's making me cross-eyed."

He nods, feigning an understanding he doesn't quite have—an understanding he doesn't quite need. It was no secret that the crash had hit Leopold Blanchard hard. He'd invested most of his fortune—Regina's too—and several of the last investments he made, were poor ones. News of his losses spread like wildfire through the town he all but owned. Some said he lost it all, and given the events that quickly followed the crash, there was every reason to believe that that was true.

Regina, of course, was the one person who knew the truth of Leopold's losses, and he wouldn't ask. If she wanted to confide, she would. If she wanted to keep that information to herself, she could. It didn't concern him nor did it matter to him.

"Are you hungry?" He considers for a moment. He did already eat—John made a chowder. "Henry and I had pasta. There's some leftover in the kitchen."

A crooked little smirk tugs up from one corner of his mouth. "You cook now?"

"Well, Leo let the staff go before… well…"

Again, her voice trails off—it's something else she doesn't need to finish.

"Will you eat?"

"I could."

"Alright then."

He watches as her eyes fall to his hand and she hesitates momentarily before reaching out and sliding her fingers over his, wrapping her hand around his before tugging him towards the door and into the darkened hall.

"It's so… quiet."

"I know. It's almost too quiet."

"The last time I was here there was a party going on."

She looks back at him and grins, nodding. "Even without the parties there were always people rustling around—hallboys and maids—it made the house feel like a home. Like it was lived in. Like it served some sort of purpose." She pauses and looks back to him as they start down the stairs, her fingers tightening around his hand. "It's funny, really, I felt so lonely here, but I was never really alone."

"It's possible to be lonely when you're surrounded by people. Those things aren't mutually exclusive."

"I know, but… in comparison it's…"

Her voice trails off as she searches for a light switch at the bottom of the stairs—and when she finds it and the light illuminates the space, he finds that they're just outside the ballroom. The grand piano that once sat outside its entrance is gone and the worn wallpaper clearly shows where large paintings once hung, a shadow of what once was. Even the glistening crystal chandelier that hung from the ballroom's vaulted ceiling is gone.

Regina pays the sad little room no attention, instead tugging him toward the kitchen and flicking on the light.

"Do you like garlic toast?"

"Who doesn't?"

She grins, giving his hand a tight little squeeze before letting it go. "Good, I overestimated how much toast a baguette would make."

Robin watches the way she moves around the kitchen and he smiles, remembering how stiff she'd once seemed in this space. Perhaps it was because she was always on guard when she was in this house, perhaps it was because she wasn't used to spending time here, but regardless, there's a marked difference in her movements. There's an ease and comfort now, and as he watches her fill a warming plate with bread and pasta, and push it into the oven, he can't help but think there's a degree of happiness there, too—in spite of everything.

"It'll be a few minutes," she tells him.

"I can wait," he tells her, a grin stretching across his lips. "I've become very good at waiting."

"I suppose you have," she says, a soft laugh rising into her voice as her cheeks flush slightly. "But, some things are worth waiting for, aren't they?"

Again, she bites at her lips, allowing him to see her nervousness—and he finds himself nodding, and taking a step toward her.

"Of course," he tells her, reaching for her and tugging her to him. "It makes it all the sweeter when you finally get to enjoy the thing you've been waiting so long for."

Regina's tongue brushes across her bottom lip as her eyes cast up to meet his—and as he holds her, fingers rubbing gently over her hip, he feels that nervousness fading away. Regina draws in a breath, slowly releasing it as her hand presses to his chest, her fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt.

"You smell like forest."

He chuckles wryly as he kneads her hip. "Is that a good thing?"

"Mm—it's exactly how I remembered you smelling." She leans in, her head dipping forward as draws in a long breath. "I missed you," she breathes out. "God, how I missed you."

It's been two years—almost to the day—since they were last together. In many ways, it feels like an eternity has passed; yet, at the same time, it feels like they're suddenly picking right back up from where they left off.

"I thought about you daily," he tells her, reaching and brushing his fingers across her cheek. "I thought about a moment like this daily."

"I, uh… I assume the pictures were a help, then?"

"God, yes," he says, his answer coming out too quickly. He's almost embarrassed to tell her just how much—and how often—he enjoyed those pictures, or how his entire day would be derailed every time he opened up a new set. "But… they pale in comparison to the real thing."

It's as close as they've been in two years, and suddenly, the anticipation is killing him—but he isn't sure what she wants, or how much she's willing to give, and he doesn't want to overstep her boundaries.

That afternoon she'd reluctantly told him they needed to be cautious, that they needed to take things slowly. She had Henry to think of, after all, and already he was dealing with so many adjustments to his life. As a parent, he understood that—and when she'd invited him over that night, he truly wasn't sure what to anticipate. He'd be content with whatever she had to offer—just as he always had been.

He had no other choice.

But now that he was standing there with her in his arms, now that he could feel her breath on his lips and feel her heart beating in rhythm with his, he was realizing how difficult that would be—how damn near impossible it would be.

And then she kisses him.

It's neither soft nor chaste, and it doesn't leave much room for misunderstanding, making his internal struggle only a moment before a moot point—and for that, he's grateful.

Her arms link around his neck as she draws back a little, grinning as her eyes fall to his lips. He watches as her tongue slides slowly over her bottom lip, her grin turning a bit coy as she steps back in, pressing herself closer. He smiles, too, swallowing hard just before her tongue parts his lips and slips against his. He breathes her in, relishing in her kiss as if to try and savor it, almost as if worried that should he make the even slightest move, it would awaken him from the sweetest and cruellest of dreams.

Regina offers a breathy sigh as she looks back again, sucking on his bottom lip as she looks up at him with hooded eyes before smiling at him, almost as if daring him to kiss her back—and so he does, not wanting to disappoint.

Robin smiles gently just before his lips crash back down onto hers, his arms wrapping tighter around her as two years of pent up emotion spill out of him in a single kiss. He feels light—almost weightless—as he kisses harder, his hand cupping the back of her head to draw her closer and deeper. He can feel her heart beating faster, he can feel her breath growing ragged.

"Robin," she breathes out, his name just more than a whisper as she breaks the kiss and lets her head fall back, practically inviting his lips. "Oh, god. Robin…"

He kisses up her neck and over her chin and up her jaw until he reaches her ear—and when he does, she lifts her head, smiling coyly once more. Her skin is flushed and her eyes glitter with wanton desire, and if it weren't for her son sleeping upstairs, he'd take her right there on the counter top.

"I should… check the pasta," she tells him as she backs away. "I'd hate to burn it."

He nods, exhaling a breath. "Yeah. That'd be a shame."

"There's still a bunch of wine in the cellar."

"Should we open one?"

"Well, that depends," she says, grabbing an oven mitt. "Are you staying?"

Robin swallows, his throat tight as he remembers the boundaries she'd put up only that afternoon. "Are you asking me to?"

She hesitates for a moment, and then nods. "I want you to stay."

"What about—"

"Henry will sleep til noon if I let him." Robin nods, a little chuckle rising up from his chest as he pushes himself forward. "I'll tell him, eventually," she says. "Soon. I promise. I just—"

"No need to rush. I get it. He's going through a lot right now and this would just be one more thing," he murmurs, his voice sincere as a sly grin pulling at his lips as his arm hooks around her waist. "Besides, we have all the time in the world right now."

She nods and grins, her arms looping lazily around his shoulders as if a moment like this one weren't a rarity, as if him standing in front of her in her kitchen wasn't at all significant, as though it were commonplace.

"I make no promises about this pasta."

"I'm sure it's fantastic."

"Henry called it tolerable."

Robin laughs, leaning in to peck her lips just before she spins away from him, momentarily turning her attention to the leftovers warming in the oven—and suddenly, he feels almost giddy.

Finally, time is on their side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little flashback of Robin and Regina definitely not on a date when they were getting to know one another (and absolutely falling for one another) in the original When Brightness Dims story.

_A soft grin pulls across Regina's lips as she rounds the corner toward the little burger joint where they'd planned to meet—and immediately, her eyes settle on Robin._

_He's standing at the corner, leaning against the light post, twirling a matchbook between his fingers. He wears a gray newsboy hat and a woollen scarf, and despite the casualness of his appearance, there's something dapper about it, something charming._

_She feels a little flutter in her stomach—a giddiness that she can't quite explain—as he turns to face her, grinning as he mocks surprise. "You are late."_

" _I'm not."_

" _We said seven thirty."_

" _We said_ around _seven thirty," she tells him, her arms folding over her chest, her brow arching as she glances down at her wrist watch. "It's seven thirty four, and therefore, it is_ around _seven thirty." He laughs and stuffs the matchbook into his pocket, nodding his concession. "Besides," she continues, her voice haughty. "These aren't actual plans."_

_That part isn't untrue, and yet it's not exactly true either._

_For weeks now, they'd simply been "happening upon" each other at a given spot, around a given time. Sometimes it was the park, sometimes it was the department store downtown, or the diner on Main Street. Tonight, their "impromptu" rendezvous was set at a little burger joint on the outskirts of town._

_Of course, it wasn't actually set._

_They never set a plan to actually meet._

_Instead, one would simply say something like, "I am going to be at the park tomorrow morning, around eight" and then the other would simply show up. The invitation was open ended, and yet, neither had ever not shown up._

" _Are you hungry?"_

" _I ate," Regina replies, frowning. "David's mother is in town. Leo had a big dinner to show off."_

" _So you're not hungry."_

_A little smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Well, I didn't say that." Robin's head cocks to the side and she laughs. "The main course was eel."_

" _Eel—"_

" _It's terribly expensive, you see."_

" _That makes sense," Robin tells her with a nod. "It's supply and demand—the butcher has a supply and there's no demand, driving the price up until some fool like Leopold Blanchard comes along."_

" _I… don't think it works that way."_

" _You say that as if you weren't served eel tonight." Robin smirks playfully and her stomach gives a little flutter—and suddenly, she's flustered. She always feels this way when he looks at her the way that he is in this very moment, and each time it happens, she tries in vain to ignore it. "But then again, I've never had eel, so I guess I shouldn't knock it."_

" _Leo likes all meat—fish included—very well done," she explains, swallowing hard as she tries to maintain what's left of her composure. "And eel is not something that can be over cooked."_

" _Leo seems like the kind of guy who enjoys chewing leather," Robin murmurs. "David's mother must have been wooed for certain, then."_

" _It was hidden with a… cream sauce of some kind, but that's exactly what it tasted like," she admits. "Old, tough leather."_

" _Tasty."_

_She scrunches her nose and offers a dissatisfied grunt._

" _So, a burger then?"_

" _Didn't you eat with John and Roland?" Her head tilts. "I assume that's why you chose this particular time—post-dinner with your son."_

_Robin shrugs. "So?"_

_A sound bubbles out of her that's a cross between a chuckle and a scoff, and it makes her cringe. "You're such a man," she tells him in an attempt to cover._

_Robin's shoulders straighten and he grins, he doesn't seem put off by whatever odd sound poured out of her just a moment ago. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment—and a yes."_

" _A yes—"_

" _To the burger."_

" _Ah—" Regina draws in a breath, her eyes narrowing as she grimaces. "I've… never had a burger."_

" _You've had eel, but not a hamburger."_

" _That is correct."_

_His eyes widen in disbelief—and then he smiles, his eyes glittering as he offers his hand to her. "Well, then it's time to rectify this."_

_For a moment, they stand there—her eyes on his hand, her heart beating just a little faster than it should. It's just a friendly gesture, she reminds herself as she places her hand in his—and once more, they stand there for a moment as his fingers wrap around her hand._

_That moment is quick to pass as he tugs her into the white-tiled restaurant—and as soon as the door is opened, she's greeted by the sounds of loud voices, boisterous laughter, and ragtime playing from the jukebox._

_It's incredibly small, yet charming. The booths are all made from red leather, the floor and tables black and white tiles, and a pegboard lists the specials—milkshakes are half off today, she notes. There are only four booths along one wall and a counter lined with red leather stools that swivel along the opposite wall._

_And every single seat is taken._

" _Oh," Robin sighs, frowning as he looks at her. "Perhaps we won't be getting that burger after all. I didn't think it'd be this busy tonight. Then again, I've never been here past noon."_

" _You've been here before?"_

" _Roland likes the strawberry milkshakes."_

_She can't help the grin that stretches over her lips as she thinks of him and his son tucked into one of the booths, burgers and milkshakes in front of them as Roland dances in his seat to the beat of the music._

" _We… could get them to go," she says, craning her neck and watching as the cook behind the counter wraps a burger in white wax paper just before he stuffs it into a paper bag. "I'm not sure my car would be an accommodating place to eat, but I'm parked—"_

" _There's a park," Robin interjects. There's a flash of excitement in his eyes. "It's a block or so away. Picnic tables. Benches. Swings. Lots of places to sit and eat."_

_Grinning again, she nods. "Sounds perfect."_

_From there, it's decided._

_Robin orders two burgers and a sack of French fries for them to share._

" _I want a milkshake," she tells him—earning a grin and a raised brow from Robin. "If Roland is so fond of the strawberry ones, I'd like to try it."_

" _And two strawberry shakes," Robin says as he looks back to the waitress. "All to go."_

_The waitress turns away and shouts the order to the cook, and in what seems like barely a minute later, their order is ready and they're on their way to the park. As they walk, he asks more questions about the eel—most of which she doesn't know how to answer—and by the time they've reached the park, Robin's concocted a plan to serve Leo a piece of tire rubber that's smothered in a thick tomato sauce to see if he'll eat it._

_They settle on the swings—him one end, her on the other, and the bag of fries between them—and Robin watches as she unwraps the burger._

" _What?"_

" _I want to see your reaction."_

" _To what?"_

" _The burger."_

_Regina's eyes narrow. "Is it secretly awful? I am skeptical with the… ground up meat. Who knows what else is ground up in there."_

_Robin's eyes roll. "Whatever it is, it's delicious."_

" _Says the man who suggested serving rubber drenched in marinara."_

" _It doesn't have to be marinara."_

" _That's not the point."_

_He grins. "I know."_

" _So, aside from hamburger… what else am I about to ingest." Robin blinks—he looks dumbfounded. "I'm serious. I've always been a picky eater—"_

" _You ate eel tonight, Regina. I don't think you understand what it is to be a picky eater." Her eyes roll as she looks to the burger, pushing apart its layers. "So, it's hamburger obviously, some cheese—"_

" _What kind?"_

" _Cheapest American on the market."_

_Her shoulders square. "Are those onions?"_

" _Yes. They're grilled," he tells her, gesturing to her burger, "in the fat from the meat."_

" _That sounds… disgusting."_

_His brow arches. "You don't know anything about cooking do you?"_

_She wants to argue, but she sighs instead. "No."_

" _That's why you need a subscription to_ Ladies Home Journal _. Great tips."_

_Her head tilts and a little laugh escapes her, "What?"_

" _Never mind," he tells her, his own laugh rising into her voice. "Just eat the burger. They're not as good cold."_

_Taking a breath, she looks down at it—and then, quickly glances over at Robin who is watching in anticipation. "Are you really going to just… stare at me like that?"_

" _Yes."_

" _It's… unsettling."_

" _Just bite into it."_

" _Fine."_

_She draws in a breath and slowly brings the burger to her lips. It smells fantastic—and despite Robin's uncomfortable gaze, she bites into it and starts to chew._

" _Well…"_

_She blinks as she looks toward him. "I'm processing. Let me chew."_

" _Doesn't quite slide down like eel, does it?"_

" _Shut up." Robin laughs and continues to watch her as she assesses the taste of the burger. "I… like the onions. A lot. Surprisingly. I didn't think I would."_

" _They are good."_

" _The cheese is good too,"_

" _It's worth the extra penny."_

" _I don't doubt that."_

_A smile twists onto his lips. Even in the dark, she can see his eyes glittering. "Now that you've been won over by greasy onions and cheese that no one is entirely certain is actually cheese, I have your next challenge."_

" _A challenge, hm?"_

" _Well, I want you to get the full effect of the bachelor diet."_

" _The bachelor diet," she repeats, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Something tells me this is going to be absolutely disgusting."_

" _Or absolutely delightful," he counters with a scoff. "Hey. You're enjoying that burger, aren't you?"_

_She presses her lips together and scrunches her nose. "A million times more than the eel I had for dinner."_

" _Well, I'm sure almost anything is better than the eel you had for dinner, but… I take my victories wherever I can find them."_

" _So, this challenge…"_

" _Ah, right!"_

_She watches curiously as he reaches for a fry, plucking it up by his fingertips and holding it up for her to see. "So, you take this—" He nods to the bag between them and waits for her to select one, and when she does, he assesses her choice. "Good. Not too floppy. It's perfect for dipping."_

" _Dipping?" she asks, "In what? You didn't order anything to dip them in."_

" _Oh, but I did. We both did," he tells her, trying quite unsuccessfully to stifle this laugh. "In fact, it's the one piece of this meal that you chose."_

_For a moment, she doesn't understand—and then the realization that he's referring to the milkshakes._

" _No. Absolutely not."_

" _You ate rubber tonight, Regina."_

_Her lips purse. "I believe we called it leather."_

" _Is that better?"_

_She sighs. "No."_

" _I'm asking for one fry," he says, cocking his brow. "And I bet you ate a whole plate of that sauce-covered leather."_

_Her eyes narrow and her chin tips upward. "There's… a difference. I don't know what it is, exactly, but there is a difference."_

" _Oh, come on! It's Roland's favorite. He'll be so glad when I tell him that you tried it."_

" _Using your adorable son against me, that's low."_

_Robin only shrugs—and as she stares at him, sitting beside her on his swing, holding up a French fry with that ridiculously smug smile of his, she feels her resolve diminishing._

" _Well, I do like a challenge, I suppose."_

_A grin twists onto his lips as he pops the fry into his mouth and reaches for his milkshake, quickly pulling off the lid and holding it out to her._

" _At least we're ruining your shake," she says, sighing as she slowly dips the fry into the shake—and once more, her nose scrunches as she pulls it out. "This looks far worse than the eel," she tells him, letting her eyes meet his momentarily—and its then that she feels her cheeks flush._

_She isn't entirely sure why, but nonetheless, she feels a fluttering in her stomach that she knows has nothing to do with the questionable things she's eating that night—and that is something she'd rather not dwell on. So, she turns her attention back to the shake-covered fry and takes in a breath just before shoving it into her mouth—and almost instantaneously Robin's laugh rings out, and again that fluttering at her core flares._

_He shouldn't make her this happy._

_Yet, he does—and she's fortunate to have him as a friend, or whatever it is that he is to her._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 drabbles describing Regina’s thoughts throughout the course of her relationship with Robin—from hating him, to struggling with even liking him, to being afraid to let herself love him.

A sneer curls over Regina's lips as she stands in front of the window, cross-armed as she stares into the darkness.

 _How dare he?_ she broods.

_How fucking dare he?_

Up until tonight she didn't know Robin Locksley, and what she knew of him was two fold—he had an adorable son in kindergarten at the local school and he supplied her husband with Canadian bootleg liquor.

And yet he'd had the _audacity_ to stand in her kitchen and speak to her in such a condescending way as if he knew a _single fucking thing_ about her.

How fucking _dare_ he!

* * *

There's no reason that she should like Robin Locksley— _absolutely_ _no reason at all_.

Having a sweet child didn't make a person likeable—and while being a good father was an admirable enough trait, what did it matter to _her_?

What did it matter that he was kind and nurturing? What did it matter that his little boy looked at him like he'd hung the moon and the stars? There were lots of people who managed to be good parents, but were completely unlikable to the rest of the world. _She_ was the perfect example of that.

And so was Robin Locksley.

* * *

Regina stands in the foyer, every inch of her tingling.

Robin had stopped in for an impromptu visit—it'd lasted for hours. They'd sat by the fire, talking and laughing as they always did, and somewhere in the midst of it, she found herself wishing moments like this one could be commonplace. Of course, there were thousands of reasons it couldn't—yet, that didn't stop her from wishing for it, from wanting it.

She hadn't meant to kiss him goodbye—truly, it was barely a kiss—but now that it happened, it'd awakened something in her.

Something she'd have to force down and deny.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina gets a phone call in the middle of the night that changes everything.
> 
> FYI: THIS ONE IS SPOILS A FUTURE CHAPTER.

Regina's silky blue silk robe billows behind her as hurries down the stairs, her heart racing as the telephone at the bottom of the stairs rings impatiently—piercing and rattling as it beckons for her. Blindly, her fingers search for the light switch, flicking it on and illuminating the hall. It's only then that she realizes how late—or perhaps early—it is, and it makes her stomach sink.

Henry is her first thought.

Her hand shakes as she lifts the receiver, fully expecting the operate to inform her in that monotone voice that all operators have that she'd be connect the line to Henry's school—but instead, the operator informs her that her caller is from Storybrooke, and momentarily, she breathes just a little easier.

"I'm sorry it's late—"

Regina's brow furrows at the sound of Robin's voice, her hand pressing to her chest and a small smile edging over her lips. "It is late," she tells him. "But a relief."

"Oh?"

"I assumed the only phone call I'd receive at nearly half-past two in the morning would be from Henry's school. I thought he was sick or hurt or—"

"Regina," he cuts in, his voice heavy and impatient. "I don't know how to tell you this."

Her breath catches in her chest, aching as her stomach churns. _Roland_ , she thinks. _Oh god, something's happened to Roland_. She'd been so concerned about Henry, she hadn't thought of anyone else.

"Robin, I'm—"

"Regina, it's… it's Leo."

Her shoulders square and she stands up a little straighter. "Oh." Once more, a wave of relief washes over her. "So, Roland's alright, then?"

There's a pause.

"Yes," Robin says, his voice faint. "Roland's fine."

"Good. That's… that's good." She draws in a breath, trying to focus. "So, what's Leo done now? He doesn't suspect that you—"

"He's dead, Regina. Leo is dead."

Suddenly, she feels numb and her lungs deflate. "What?"

"This evening, um… I was driving by and the police were there—"

"Police," she whispers. "Why would… why would the police be there?"

Again, there's a pause and then a flicker of a memory—the weekend before the headmaster of Henry's school pulled her aside to let her know Henry's tuition payment had not arrived. He assured her it had to be a mistake, certain that the payment would soon arrive—yet, at the same time, he felt it was curious. Payments had never come late for Henry Blanchard and now two had been missed.

She'd offer a tight smile and a nod, telling him the payment would arrive shortly.

Anger bubbled up inside of her. She assumed it was some sort of game that Leo was playing—after all, this is what she'd expected all along. Mal, too, agreed that it was likely some sort of power play and haughtily reminded her that she, too, could play that game. By the end of the afternoon, Henry's tuition was paid and up-to-date. Leopold Blanchard be damned.

"Regina…"

Her eyes press closed as his voice trails off. "What happened?"

"He shot himself."

She releases a shaky breath as her chest constricts. "Oh…"

"I don't have any other details," he admits, his voice sounding sheepish. "I only got what I could from the kitchen maid. She likes me, but… obviously, she was distraught."

"Of course…"

"But I wanted you to know. I… I didn't want you to read about it in the paper, or… worse… for Henry to." Regina swallows and once more, her eyes pressed closed. "I don't know if either you or Henry are in touch with Mary Margaret, but she was there, Regina. She was there when it happened."

Grappling, she finds the chair beside the little table where the phone is kept, and she sinks down into her, her knees suddenly weak. "I'm not, but I think I can be."

Robin clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Regina. I… I can't imagine…"

"I don't know how I'm going to tell Henry," she murmurs. "I… I mean, they're not close. They never were, but…"

Regina's voice trails off, her eyes pressing closed as she thinks of Roland. She wonders if he's ever asked about Marian and she can't imagine how painful that those conversations would be.

"Thank you for calling… for thinking of me and Henry…"

"Let me know if there's anything I can do. I know I'm far, but…"

At that, she smiles. He's such a good and kind-hearted man, and for that, she's lucky. "There is something you can do."

"Anything."

"Check in on Mary Margaret. Give her my number. I don't know if she'd want to hear from me, but she's got to be devastated. She adores…" Her breath catches and then there's a long pause. "For all his faults, she adored him."

"I will," he assures her. "I'll go tonight."

"Thank you."

"And if you need anything, I know it'll be difficult, but… reach out, if you can. Either here at the post office or to Arthur."

"Thank you," she says again. "I think I'm alright though. Or I will be."

"Of course," he replies gently. "But if something changes, the offer stands."

They end the call, exchanging a few sweet, but heavy sentiments, and by the time she's hanging the receiver back onto its cradle, her thoughts have already shifted to her son as she wonders how he'll take this news.


End file.
